Land of the Minotaurs

by Richard A. Knaak

  “But what swings one way must always swing the other. What one rejects, one must later accept—if one is to remain in balance.”

  The crying grew more shrill, as if demanding to be heard.

  Kaz tried to ignore the sound. “I’m not putting up with such nonsense! I’m going home!”

  He turned toward the path leading to the woods, only to discover that instead of the forest, he faced the Great Circus of Nethosak. Cheering rose from inside, and a line of minotaurs stood at attention, awaiting him.

  Kaz stepped back, but as his foot came down, the mountain path transformed into the flat, sandy floor of the arena. Instead of the gray man and the rock, a high wooden platform stood before him. The platform was several yards across and towered above him. A dozen of Kaz’s kinsmen struggled at levers, their efforts causing the structure to slowly rotate.

  Frozen, Kaz watched as a figure hove into view. The figure slowly came nearer as the rotating platform brought him around.

  Still the child cried, but now he sounded older … not adult … but definitely older.

  The face of the figure on the platform came into view.

  It was his own face.

  “About time you got here,” the other Kaz called.

  Kaz tried to speak, but as he opened his mouth, a great shadow darkened the sky. The other Kaz looked up … and was swallowed by that darkness. The arena was gone.

  “Definitely out of balance,” remarked the gray man, now standing next to Kaz. “The past should be past by this time.”

  Eyes widening, the minotaur glared at his peculiar gray companion. “I know you, don’t I? I’ve forgotten you, somehow. I remember about Huma and—” His words were cut off as the shrill voice cried still louder. It was too much for him to stand. “By Paladine and Kiri-Jolith! Can nothing be done about that?”

  “I can do nothing.” The gray man held up his hands, which were bound by what seemed a twisted version of his own staff. He seemed indifferent. “You must complete what you have left undone.”

  Kaz did not care to ask what the gray man meant, his gaze already turning back to the mountainous trail. The cry for help was stronger, closer. He wished he had his axe, then realized it was in his hands. That was the one thing that so far did not disturb him; Honor’s Face always returned to his hands when he most needed it. One of its magical qualities.

  “Paladine preserve me!” Kaz grunted, starting up the trail.

  “Perhaps he will,” replied the gray man from behind him. “He understands the need for balance.”

  This made the minotaur turn, but when he looked, the man in gray was gone. Snorting his annoyance, Kaz listened again to the cry. It was stronger, closer, but now he thought he heard the sound of running feet and the heavy breathing of determined pursuers. Someone was after the voice.

  “Did you hear that, Kaz?” asked Delbin, but the kender was nowhere to be seen.

  Keeping the axe ready, the minotaur picked up his pace. If there were others, he had to hurry. They might catch up with their prey at any moment.

  Despite his hurried pace, though, it seemed as if he walked through a miasma. Ever so slowly, Kaz made progress along the path, but with each renewed cry, he knew he would be too late.

  Then the cry came again, so close that he knew its source must be just out of sight. All he had to do was reach the point where the path before him twisted to the right. There was still time.

  Suddenly Kaz was at the turn. He raised Honor’s Face in preparation for a swing and followed the twist in the path.

  A shadow loomed over him.

  It was a dragon.

  Kaz woke with a start, realizing that everything had been but a dream. The minotaur cursed. It was still dark outside. Kaz estimated that he had been asleep for perhaps an hour, possibly two, but no more. He peered around the camp, muttered in annoyance, and tried to settle back down to sleep.

  He did not hear the single figure that had been observing the camp move off into the night.

  “I told you that story earlier.”

  “I want to hear it again.”

  “Not now, Delbin.”

  “Please? It’ll help pass the time, and I always like to hear about it, especially the part—”

  “All right.” It would be easier simply to relate the tale … again.

  “Thanks, Kaz!” piped in Delbin. He reached for his pouch. “I should write it down this time! I always forget. It would—say, I wonder where this came from?”

  Kaz eyed the newfound object with some trepidation, but it turned out to be only one of his own fire flints. Giving the kender a look, he reached out and retrieved his property. “Just forget the book for now, Delbin, or I won’t tell the story.”

  That gave the kender pause. Kaz sighed, then began, “In the beginning, there were the ogres. They were not the animals we know today, but beautiful creatures, the envy of all other races, including the elves. They built glorious cities and created great works in all fields. All respected their accomplishments and abilities.”

  “What happened to them?” asked Delbin. He asked the same questions at the same points in the story every time Kaz related it.

  “They were decadent, vain. They wasted their achievements, instead playing with power that should’ve been cultivated in order to cement their greatness. Some of them, however, saw that they were destined for savagery if they continued like that and tried to speak sense to their brothers. The others wouldn’t listen, and the race sank further and further into degeneracy. They fell from the grace of the Great Horned One, Sargas, so the story goes, and he finally cast out the ogres, condemning them to be the animals they truly were. Those are the ogres of today, degenerate monsters who can’t even recall the wonders of their own ancestors.”

  “But the minotaurs …”

  “It’s said that Sargas took pity on those who tried to remain on the path of glory.” Kaz disliked mentioning Sargas; he no longer followed that god, who many believed was also known as Sargannon, consort to the Dark Queen. Still, this was the story as it had always been told, and Kaz was a believer in the traditions. “Reaching down, he took those most worthy and placed them far from the other ogres. In order to mark them as his true children, he reshaped their forms, making them look like himself.”

  Kaz leaned forward so that the kender could get a good close-up of his features. It was a theatrical habit he had picked up from his father, who had told the story to him many times when Kaz was a child. The kender shivered, but more in pleasure at hearing the tale than because he was really scared.

  “We’ve taken up the destiny that the ogres tossed aside.” Kaz closed his eyes. “ ‘We have been enslaved but have always thrown off our shackles. We have been driven back, but always returned to the fray stronger than before. We have risen to new heights when all other races have fallen into decay. We are the future of Krynn, the fated masters of the entire world. We are the children of destiny.’ That’s an old minotaur saying.”

  “I heard it was the Graygem that changed ogres into minotaurs,” Delbin cheerfully interjected. “It just moved through the area, and after it left there were ogres and there were—”

  Kaz growled. “Minotaurs weren’t created by magical happenstance!” He looked at the kender. “If you want to hear the story again, you’ll never repeat such foolishness to me, understand?”

  “Yes, Kaz. Sorry.”

  “Good. Now try to keep quiet for a little while. We have a long day ahead of us.”

  “What’s the minotaur kingdom like?” asked his companion, already ignoring his injunction to be silent.

  “Not now, Delbin. Later.”

  His tone was ominous, and the kender obeyed. The rest of the day passed without incident, as did the night that followed. They were able to get an early start the next morning. The minotaur could scarcely believe their good fortune. Usually, it seemed, his journeys were fraught with daily peril.

  “See those mountains in the distance?” Kaz asked, feeling less moo
dy than the day before. “Those are the first signs that we’re nearing the minotaur kingdom. We’ve still got the last part of the journey, though.”

  “I like mountains,” his companion commented, staring at the distant peaks. “Especially ones with caverns.”

  Kaz shuddered. He did not like caverns. Too many things had happened to him in caverns. “I don’t think we need to worry about caverns.”

  “You found a dragon in a cavern once, didn’t you?” Delbin grew more excited. “It was just after the war with the Dark Queen, when dragons were supposed to be gone, but you accidentally found a whole dragon, and she was trapped by this evil sorcerer who—”

  “Take a breath, Delbin.” Kaz had told the kender the tale once long ago, but had refused to tell that one ever again. He’d hoped Delbin had forgotten. Thinking of dragons always made him recall the silver dragon who, in human form, had loved Huma of the Lance. Memories of Huma were painful, for the knight had been—would always be—Kaz’s truest friend. “I don’t want to talk about that now.”

  “But you flew a dragon once, didn’t you? I remember you mentioning that, too.”

  Despite himself, the minotaur smiled slightly as he recalled that particular dragon. “I flew one during the battle in which Takhisis was defeated. His name was Bolt. Young, eager, and as battle-hungry as I was. He was a bronze dragon, brash but brave.” Kaz grunted, the memory turning dark again. “They all vanished after the war was over, both the dragons of light and their darker counterparts.”

  “But you found the other one after that.”

  Seeing that the kender would not be put off, which was how things generally went, Kaz finally nodded with a sigh. “Only a short time after the war. The dragons had all disappeared. I’d just left Solamnia”—he had left Solamnia after paying his last respects to his friend and comrade—“and was simply traveling. Times were still dangerous, though, and many didn’t trust my kind since we’d served as slave-soldiers to the Dark Queen. I was often forced to run rather than hurt innocent fools.”

  “Don’t forget the monster!” piped up Delbin.

  “It wasn’t a monster, Delbin—”

  “You said it was a dragon-man! That sounds like a neat monster. I wish I’d seen it. You said it was taller than you and all scaly! It was made by the mage who captured the dragon and her eggs—” The kender shut his mouth when he realized that Kaz was glaring at him again. “Sorry …”

  “Why do you even ask me to tell the stories? You seem to know them by heart.”

  “Please tell it again! I like to hear you tell them, Kaz. You lived them!”

  Yes, he had lived them. Images of the past racing through his mind, Kaz related the short battle between himself and the creature, who had fled into the night, and then his own capture not long after by a sinister mage. The mage, a human named Brenn, had indeed captured a dragon, a great silver female. He had captured her by stealing her eggs and luring the frantic mother into a trap, using the eggs as bait.

  “He was turning her eggs into monsters, wasn’t he, Kaz? Making more dragon-men!” Again, it took a severe look from the minotaur to quiet the overeager kender, who still managed to ask one more question. “Why didn’t the dragon stop him?”

  Kaz recalled all too well. “An illusion. He threatened her eggs, placing an illusion of them just out of her grasp. In return for their safety, he demanded her magic to aid his own in an experiment. She couldn’t know that he was using her magic on the real eggs, changing the young into beast-men.”

  “What happened?”

  “With her help, I killed Brenn and his monster, but she died.” Her dedication reminded him of Huma’s silver companion. “I took what eggs I could find and brought them to a place where I thought her mate, who had also remained behind, would likely come.” He exhaled. The story dredged up other memories. “I waited nearly three weeks before he came, and when he did, I thought he would die as well.” Kaz eyed the kender as if daring him to interrupt.

  Delbin was wisely silent.

  “He and his mate had not been the only dragons left, after all. How it also could have been there, I don’t know, but there was a great black, one of the most evil of dragons. The silver fought the black, killed it … with a little help from me … but was so badly wounded that he could barely carry the eggs. You see, once free of the mage’s spell, they grew at their normal pace. By the time he came, they were close to hatching.”

  The kender’s mouth formed an O of wonder. “Did he live?” he blurted.

  “The last I saw of him, he was flying off … I think it was to the north … with the eggs in a sling that I’d made for him. He couldn’t even transform. His magic barely worked.” Kaz scratched his chin. “I never knew the female’s name, but his was Tiberion, I think.”

  “That’s a good story!” Delbin reached for his pouch. “Oops! I should write it down so I don’t forget it!”

  Kaz, who had no inclination to discover just what Delbin would pull from his pouch this time, quickly said, “Forget that for now. We’ve got to pick up the pace. I want to make those lower hills by tonight. Besides, you know the story almost as well as I do. You can always write it down later.”

  Delbin pouted but obeyed.

  They did make the hills by nightfall, albeit barely. Kaz was grateful for yet another uneventful day of travel and hoped it was a good sign. Once they entered the minotaur lands, he would have to be even more on his guard, but until then, the minotaur wanted to be able to relax and build up his strength.

  They located a likely spot for camp and dismounted. Kaz took charge of both animals while Delbin cleared the grounds.

  “Delbin, see if you can find some food. I’ll work on the fire.” Regardless of his other traits, the kender was an expert gatherer and trapper when he put his wandering mind to it. Seven times out of ten he was likely to bring both meat and fruit back with him, along with a few items that Kaz had to be convinced to try eating.

  The kender scurried off. He would be back within the hour. When he and Kaz had traveled together, they often set traps in the hopes of catching game that they could use for the next day’s meals. Kaz would set a few of his own before the evening was over, but he had spent so many years living off the land that this work seldom took long. So far, they had been fortunate, catching a good supply of rabbits and an occasional bird. Nuts and berries added to their repasts.

  Kaz had just finished his own tasks when the kender reappeared. The fire was burning merrily, the camp in good order.

  “Kaz! Look what I caught! They practically jumped into my hands!”

  The minotaur snorted. Typical kender luck. The kender had two rabbits on a string—rabbits mostly for Kaz’s benefit—plus a full bag that likely contained fruits and whatever other plant life Delbin thought edible.

  They settled down to sleep not long after eating. Kaz was so relaxed, he immediately drifted off.

  He was awakened soon after by a sound he could not identify, save that it somehow seemed out of place with his surroundings. A sense of foreboding coursed through him.

  “Did you hear that, Kaz?” asked Delbin, rising from the other side of the fire.

  “Quiet!” the minotaur whispered, rising at the same time. He seized the great battle-axe by the handle. “Stay here, Delbin.”

  “But, Kaz—” The kender clamped his mouth shut at the sight of his companion’s ferocious visage.

  Staring into the dark forest, Kaz estimated where the noise, whatever it had been, had originated. He took off on foot. His present circumstances reminded him of his dream. True, he was in the forest rather than the mountains, but other than that he felt as if the two were somehow connected.

  That was what he was thinking about when a figure as tall as the minotaur nearly crashed into him.

  The ogre was as surprised as Kaz, possibly more so. Armed with a studded club, it gaped at the horned warrior, then grunted and attacked.

  Kaz met the blow with his axe. Honor’s Face cut through the c
lub unhindered, sending a good third of the ogre’s weapon flying. The ogre was stubborn, however, and pulled the weapon back for yet another try. Even in the dim light of the moon, Kaz could see the murderous intent in his adversary’s flat, brutish face. The ogre snarled, revealing long, vicious teeth accustomed to tearing raw flesh from either a fresh kill or an enemy warrior … which was often the same thing to one of its kind.

  Kaz did not wait. Even before the ogre could complete its second swing, Honor’s Face sliced under the monster’s guard, digging in deep at the midsection.

  With a cry, Kaz’s foe fell back, the ruined club dropping from a lifeless hand. The ogre ceased breathing even before its body struck the ground.

  There was more thrashing in the woods as other figures moved in his direction. Kaz made a quick estimate based on the patterns of noise and counted at least four other ogres, all heading his way. One was bad enough, two worse, but if he had to face three, possibly four, at the same time, then he was dead.

  Kaz abandoned his position for one farther to his left. He could hear the movements of but one figure over there … so he hoped, anyway … and against one ogre he would prevail.

  The newcomer continued to trample through the forest. Ogres were less concerned with stealth than minotaurs. Brute strength was all that mattered to most of them, though it was never wise to underestimate them. Kaz had been forced to serve under ogres when he had been a slave-soldier in the armies of the Queen of Darkness, and he was fully aware just how cunning and treacherous they could be.

  A dim shape materialized, a shape that coalesced into an ogre, with an axe almost as long as Kaz’s. The ogre was breathing heavily. It paused and sniffed the air.

  Kaz gave no warning. The minotaur warrior emerged from his hiding place with the axe already in flight. To its credit, however, the ogre succeeded in dodging the blow.

  “Minotaur,” growled the toothy monster. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “I would’ve thought that obvious.” Kaz did not want to waste time talking, but the ogre’s attitude confused him.

  “We’ve not failed,” insisted the ogre. “Camp is near.”